AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

Did you miss me?

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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Their Talaxian cook had been able to put a party together in very short order when he'd heard it was meant to be a casual affair. There was food for anyone who was hungry after the dinner that they'd eaten even while Neelix and Kes had been putting the finishing touches on the room, and there was cake, coffee, and champagne available for those who wanted a touch more celebration.

Since the party was meant to be less of a party and more of a passing-through opportunity to lay eyes on the first baby and their recovering captain, they hadn't really arranged for any sort of entertainment. With roughly one hundred and forty people who planned to pass through the mess hall at any time during the evening, they would need to move somewhat quickly to keep the space from becoming overcrowded or the whole event from taking too long.

Their captain, after all, wasn't even seventy-two hours post-birth and that made their first officer feel the need to control how long she was up and about—despite how good she insisted she felt. Kathryn Janeway, after all, would swear she could take on the world, single-handed, no matter her actual circumstances.

After a short nap, though, Chakotay had thought it best to go ahead and arrange some kind of gathering. That would keep the engineering crew from discussing the fact that they'd seen the baby while others had not. It would keep rumors of favoritism at bay among the crew. It would also, hopefully, work to soothe over some seemingly hurt feelings that Kathryn had over Chakotay introducing their daughter to some of their crew in her absence.

During the time between Chakotay's conversation with Neelix and the party that the Talaxian was able to masterfully arrange at the last minute, Chakotay had taken the time to meditate and find some inner peace to steel him through whatever storms may come during the next few days as they adjusted to being new parents. Kathryn took the time to take a shower and dress in her maternity uniform.

Chakotay had insisted that the crew would not expect her to be dressed in a uniform so soon after delivering their daughter into the world, but Kathryn couldn't bear the thought of not being well-pressed and put together. She'd had a moment of sadness over the fact that she was still only comfortable in a maternity uniform—like maybe she'd thought that she'd be in her old uniforms in a matter of hours after Kaya's birth—but then she'd gotten herself under control and dressed their daughter in a simple pink dress that she liked most of the ones that she'd replicated.

Chakotay noticed that, for her first time out, Kathryn had been careful to choose all the things that Kaya took into public from her own replicated items instead of from the items that she'd been given at her shower. She'd use those items later, without a doubt, but it was clear that she wanted to avoid all possibility of hurt feelings or accusations of favoritism the first time that Kaya was introduced to the people that would comprise her extended family.

Despite his nap and a truly restorative meditation session, Chakotay found himself yawning shortly after arriving at the little gathering. The trickle of people was slow, at first, and the hum of quiet conversation was too soothing for him as a brand-new father with a dull headache that could, at any moment, get out of hand. He was alternating champagne and coffee in sips, until he was almost certain that he would go through all the refreshments, alone, that Neelix had provided for everyone.

As the alcohol and the caffeine began to mix in his bloodstream, though, he started to find a second wind—or maybe even a fourth or fifth when he considered how long he and Kathryn had been running through a fog of events surrounding their daughter's arrival into the world. Everything was helped out when the number of people started to rise. The shift change brought more people in, and it created a quick rush of those who were being "relieved" just long enough to dart through the room and cast a glance at the newborn before they had to run back out and take their places at duty stations.

It would only be about two hours before Kathryn would have to excuse herself to feed Kaya. Chakotay was hoping, though, that the whole event wouldn't take that long. He knew it was a bit of a steep expectation to think that everyone might make their way through the mess hall in that amount of time, but he also knew that those who weren't on duty were doing their best to relieve their comrades long enough to allow them to catch a glance of the baby. He hoped that most of the crew would respect the fact that they might all want to return to their quarters as soon as possible.

Socialization, after all, slipped lower and lower on their list of desires as time ticked on.

Chakotay stood with Kathryn for the first little while of the gathering. She held Kaya in her arms and fawned over the baby as she was already wont to do. When someone came, she offered her daughter out in their direction, but there was a certain shortness in Kathryn's demeanor that Chakotay thought made it clear that she was adopting a "look but don't touch" policy with her offspring. She was a little rigid and even a little distant. Chakotay had suggested as much to her, and she'd given him a bit of a warning look before she'd apologized. She'd changed nothing, though, about her stance when the next crewmember came by to look at their daughter.

Kathryn, it seemed, wanted their baby to be admired, but she preferred if that admiration came from something of a distance.

Chakotay had suggested, not long after that, that she consider allowing others to hold the baby—that she pass Kaya around.

The look he got was on par with what he would have expected if he'd suggested that she allow a scorned Gorn to babysit the infant.

Chakotay hadn't insisted any further that Kathryn share Kaya in any manner that she didn't feel was best at the moment. Instead, he'd slipped away from her and made his way to the refreshment table, swallowed a piece of cake practically whole, and taken his beverages to retreat to a corner and enjoy them.

Tom Paris found him not long after he'd helped himself to his probably third cup of coffee and flute of champagne—which he intended to alternate as he had the first two.

"Some party," Tom said, clapping Chakotay on the shoulder and squeezing.

"Starting to pick up," Chakotay said.

He meant that. He'd been pushed more and more into the corner by the room slowly filling up. At this point, he was doing his best to stay out of the way of the crowd. Maybe it was the fact that he was exhausted, or maybe his nerves were more on edge than he realized—not helped, more than likely, by the caffeine—but he felt overwhelmed by the people beginning to bunch into the mess hall.

Tom stepped closer to him to avoid the crowd as well.

"I don't think I've ever seen the mess this crowded," Tom offered. "But then—it's not everyday that everyone gets a chance to see what the baby of their captain and first officer will look like."

"I'm still not sure how we'll write this in our logs," Chakotay said. "The whole thing. I mean—we've been pretty careful about how we've recorded things even in our personal logs."

Tom laughed to himself.

"Starfleet doesn't have strict rules against fraternizing," Tom said.

"Exact rules, no," Chakotay said. "But it's frowned upon." He laughed to himself. "Even more than that, I'm pretty sure they frown upon the fraternizing between Starfleet Captains and Maquis."

"It might even be an extra charge against you in court," Tom offered with a great deal of teasing to his tone. "There has to be a very specific charge for impregnating the captain that captures you."

"Don't laugh too hard," Chakotay said. "You're married to the Maquis too, you know."

Tom hummed.

"And, in this case, an ex-con turned reinstated Starfleet officer is doing everything he can to impregnate a half-Klingon member of the Maquis. It's the stuff that holonovels are made of."

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"I've been thinking about that more and more these days," Chakotay said, taking a long swallow from his champagne flute. They were suddenly pushed harder by the movement of the crowd and practically tossed against the far wall, but they both simply moved with the crowd instead of pushing back. Before Chakotay could pick up his sentence again, Neelix appeared from out of the crowd like a burrowing creature popping up out of a hole.

"Having a good time, gentleman?" He asked, placing an additional flute of champagne in each of their hands. Before either of them could answer his question, though, he simply turned around and appeared to swim back through the bunch of bodies.

They looked at each other and both of them laughed, but neither of them argued against the extra drink as they held down their small spot of claimed land in the far corner of the mess hall.

Chakotay assumed Kathryn was fine. He'd lost all sight of her, but he'd heard no commotion that made him think otherwise.

"You were saying?" Tom asked, some amusement still lingering in his voice as he drained his half-empty flute of champagne to start on the fresh one that Neelix had unexpectedly delivered.

"I was saying," Chakotay said, following suit and draining his own half-empty flute of champagne—his coffee now almost entirely abandoned, "that I have been thinking more and more about you and what it'll be like if you and B'Elanna add to the numbers on the ship."

Tom raised his eyebrows at him.

"I didn't realize we were on your mind so much," he teased.

Chakotay laughed to himself. Things were funnier now that his stomach was full of champagne and coffee.

"It's been more of the rollercoaster of excitement we've been on since—really since just before Kathryn's labor started," Chakotay said. "In hindsight, I know there were signs that it was all about to start. There was a shift of sorts. Like tremors before an eruption or an earthquake. And since then? It's been a wild ride of emotions for both of us."

"And you're thinking B'Elanna's going to be a nightmare," Tom said. "If the captain has been such a handful?"

"I didn't say anything about the captain being a handful," Chakotay said, laughing to himself. "I said nothing—nothing at all about the captain. Nothing except—the whole experience of bringing a baby into the world and starting to figure out what we're doing with that baby is a rollercoaster ride."

Tom hummed.

"Of course, I'd never tell the captain that you think she's a nightmare," Tom offered.

Chakotay narrowed his eyes at Tom and Tom laughed to himself.

"Whatever you think or feel is safe with me," Tom offered. "Just as long as you—promise to extend me the same courtesy. Those of us who are planning on becoming fathers on this journey are going to need some support."

"I just know that B'Elanna can already be a bit—explosive," Chakotay said. "Unpredictable. You forget, I've known her a long time."

"You won't hear any argument from me," Tom said. "Still, I think that part of me is hoping that it'll mellow her out a bit."

"If it's anything like I've seen so far," Chakotay said, "it comes and goes. There's a definite flux there."

"I'm glad to know that I can count on your support, then, when the time comes," Tom said.

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"Absolutely," he said.

"Good," Tom said. "Then—ditto. You can count on mine. Whatever you need." He was looking around the room. He was studying the slightly overwhelming crowd. At least, tucked into the corner, they were safe from the almost suffocating number of people bunched into such a tight space.

They should really thin out soon, Chakotay thought. The concentration of bodies was simply too great. It was starting to get hot. Inside his uniform, he was sweating. He almost wished he could rid himself of his jacket.

"I appreciate it," Chakotay said to Tom. He swallowed down most of the flute of champagne. It was beginning to make him feel a little lightheaded. It was more than relieving him of his inhibitions. He was feeling quite relaxed, and he welcomed it. "It feels like I could use all the help I can get."

There was a small rise in the noise level. It wasn't enough to call a commotion, though there was definitely a pick-up in the amount of noise that surrounded them. This many people, though, were bound to cause a great deal of noise. The noise reminded Chakotay that he'd had a headache earlier—the champagne dulled it a little.

"In my first act of help," Tom offered, from beside Chakotay, his hand coming to rest on Chakotay's shoulder again, "I'm going to give you the heads up that—your wife and daughter seem to have just left the mess hall. Quickly. And my wife is right behind them."